


The Light of Hyrule

by Chris_Atola



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: British English, Camping, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Don't copy to another site, Festivals, Gen, Geographical Inaccuracies, Grammarly is my beta, Headcanon, How Do I Tag, Hunters & Hunting, Link is at least 17, Link never has enough rupees, Money, No Beta, No galloping for hours, Novelization, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Realistic, Saving the World, Travel, Underage Drinking, Verbal Link, applying Earth logic to a video game, depending on your local laws, is expensive, or at least trying to be, shouldn't need saying, starts when leaving the Great Plateau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chris_Atola/pseuds/Chris_Atola
Summary: This is a BOTW novelisation with my best attempt at realistic travel times, which I'm writing mostly for myself but which I thought others might also enjoy.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> References to hunting. Wild horses are caught and trained (with positive reinforcement).
> 
> I'm playing pretty fast and loose with the geography of Hyrule, fair warning.

Ten days after waking in the Shrine of Resurrection found Link standing on the northern edge of the Great Plateau, setting up his new glider. Its wingspan was about twelve times his own height, making it a rather unwieldy device to use. As he worked, he eyed the herd of horses below and considered the best way to catch one. Perhaps he could glide down to the foot of the plateau and sneak up on one?

 

Ten minutes later found him struggling to stay astride a panicked, bucking, chestnut-and-white pinto mare. The horse did her level best to knock him off her back but eventually subsided in exhaustion. Link then spent the next several hours working with his new mount, using a combination of gentle corrections and positive reinforcement. Finally, he was able to dismount and retrieve the impromptu halter he had made early in the morning. The mare mostly held still while he put it on her, further encouraged by the apple he offered her after the halter was in place. It was made of straw rope and so could only be a temporary measure, but Link hoped to find somewhere to buy better, more comfortable equipment either on the way to, or in, Kakariko.

 

After the halter was secured in place Link mounted again and urged his new horse into a trot, occasionally interspersed with a period of slow walk, toward the distant Duelling Peaks. The first twenty-five kilometres were peaceful as they travelled unmolested. A couple of times Link saw some hulking creatures that seemed somewhat brutish, but as they were facing the other way and well away from the road, he decided to ignore them for the time being.

 

Things changed after they reached the ruins of the town located at the foot of the hill northeast of the Eastern Abbey. First, they encountered another of the enormous brutes – a Moblin, judging by the Sheikah Slate’s explanation of the parts it soon left behind – which Link dispatched with the new spear he had found on the Plateau. After another couple of kilometres, they ran into another Moblin, followed soon after by a pack of Bokoblins. At this point Link spurred his horse into a gallop which lasted until they reached what turned out to be Proxim Bridge.

 

There were two male watchmen on the bridge. One, stern-faced and dark-haired, introduced himself as Brigo. The other was a giant of a redhead who gave his name as Harvey and said virtually nothing after that. Following the introductions, Brigo launched into what was, apparently, his favourite subject: Guardians.

 

“Those strange things that popped out of the ground… Did you see them? The shrines and towers all activated suddenly, the other day, so now we’re watching _that_ thing,” here he indicated the long-dead, moss-covered Guardian, “Just in case it suddenly starts moving again. Did you know some of them can still walk? One of them chased me down and tried to kill me!”

 

“This one here?” Link asked.

 

“No, that one was over by the Castle, near the old Applean Forest. When they spot you, they shoot blue beams of light at you! I’ve seen a Guardian kill a big carthorse with one blast! There’s lots of ‘em near the Castle, so be careful.”

 

By this point night had fallen and, directed by Brigo, Link kept going until the end of the bridge where he found a campfire and a waxcloth tent large enough for three men. He tethered his horse to a convenient post, pulled out his cooking pot and other utensils and started making himself some dinner. When he had finished eating, it was a few moments’ work to put away the leftovers and wash the dishes, followed by the extrication of his bedroll, which had been another gift from a disguised King Rhoam. All that done, Link entered the tent.

 

* * *

 

At dawn Link retrieved his horse and led her to the river for a drink and some grazing. While the mare grazed, Link took the opportunity to wash in the river and inspect his salvaged clothing. The traveller’s trousers were, as expected, full of holes and starting to rot. They had, after all, spent years – perhaps even a hundred of them? – in a chest out in the open. These would need replacing soon.

 

By around six in the morning, they were on the road again. Link noticed the line of a wall running atop the ridge north of the Duelling Peaks, presumably as part of the local defences.

 

Ten hours of riding and a couple of rest breaks later, about halfway between Proxim and the Duelling Peaks, Link veered off the road toward a campfire he could see at the base of the foothills. This camp turned out to belong to a merchant selling what appeared to be last year’s root vegetables and dried herbs. Link had insufficient money to pay such exorbitant rates and did not feel up to haggling, so he decided not to buy anything. It was, however, getting dark again, so he chose to stop for the night and carry on at dawn.

 

On the other side of the river, Link could see another tower. The water seemed too wide for him to cross, however, so he decided to come back to that later.

 

While travelling between the Peaks, Link saw two large somethings in the water. Whatever they were, they paid him no mind, so he decided to leave them be in turn. There was also a shrine visible on the opposite bank, which Link planned to return to later. Halfway through the pass, they came across an impressive stone wall and a pair of iron gates, one on each riverbank. Clearly, these gates were meant to control access to the plain beyond. The watchmen at the southern entrance barely gave him a second glance as they waved him through.

 

It was late, so Link found a hitching post for his horse and an empty corner in the guardhouse for himself. After a cold dinner of leftover meat and apples, he made a beeline for his bedroll.

 

As they emerged from between the Peaks shortly before sunset, Link could see a large wattle-and-daub building on the other side of the river, across a recently-repaired wooden bridge. For some odd reason, the building had something resembling a massive horse’s head on its roof. When he got closer, it rapidly became apparent that this was the Duelling Peaks Inn and Stable.

 

The first person Link met at the Inn was an odd young man with an enormous, beetle-shaped pack on his back. This man turned out to be Beedle, who was ecstatic to buy monster parts and amber from Link. He also went on, at length, about his love for insects and would Link please sell him any interesting bugs he should happen to find in his travels?

 

Eventually, one of the farmhands noticed Link’s predicament and called out to him, giving him an excuse to leave Beedle to lecture the empty air on the subject of insects and their merits.

 

“Thought you might need rescue,” the stablehand told Link once he was well away from Beedle and, hopefully, out of his earshot. “Beedle’s a nice guy, but he’ll talk yer ear off if you let him – and he can’t usually take a hint.”

 

“Thanks,” Link replied with great relief as he dismounted.

 

“I haven’t seen you before,” the stablehand commented. “Where’d you come from? I’m Bill.”

 

“Link. And most recently? The Great Plateau.”

 

“Huh. I didn’t think there was anyone or anything much up there. Not that anybody’s been there in decades – those cliffs are a tiny bit high,” Bill joked. “Did you want to talk to Tasseren? He’s the stablemaster.”

 

“I could do, yes,” Link told him with a nod.

 

“Right this way, then,” Bill told him and led him to the back of the building where a taller, heavy-set man stood in the stableyard. Bill made the introductions before taking his leave.

 

Tasseren cheerfully explained the process and costs associated with boarding horses and was pleased to sell Link a new, bitless bridle and halter for sixty rupees. The saddles available at the stable were all intended for much larger men and would not be comfortable, in the long run, for someone of Link’s size. He directed Link to the saddlemaker in Hateno Town.

 

“Now I just need your horse’s name,” Tasseren finished, jotting down notes on a slate.

 

“…Sky,” Link finally answered, after a long pause.

 

Link spent the next couple of days training Sky, getting her used to the bridle and to having her feet handled. She baulked at first but after enough persistent coaxing and treats she finally seemed to accept the attention and allowed herself to be shod by one of the stablehands who moonlighted as a blacksmith and farrier.

 

When he felt Sky was sufficiently trained to be getting on with, Link turned his attention to the shrine near the stable. Said shrine turned out to be relatively simple, if fiddly, and only took him a couple of hours to complete.

 

* * *

 

 

At sunrise the following morning, Link and Sky set out for Kakariko. The sky was overcast with ominous stormclouds looming to the north, but Link hoped to make the journey before the storm reached Blatchery Plain and so pressed on regardless. Fortunately, five hours after leaving the Duelling Peaks, the storm had held off until they reached the top of the slope and the first thunderclap came just as Link and Sky unwittingly crossed the wards surrounding Kakariko two hours later. Link somehow managed to keep Sky calm long enough to take her to the stables below the Shuteye Inn, where he bribed her with an apple picked up from the Peaks stableyard.

 

It was now just past midday. Link decided to approach the little old lady by the stone frog spirit shrine. Maybe she could point him toward Impa?

 

“Oh, yes,” the old lady told him, “She lives in the house up there, at the top of these stairs here.” She indicated the long staircase to the right of the spirit shrine, guarded by two men.

 

Link stepped closer to the stairs and was promptly stopped by the guards. “You there! Who are you?! How dare you trespass upon Lady Impa’s abode!” The guard paused, surprised at something he had spotted. “Is that… a Sheikah slate? But that would mean you are… No, it can’t be. Can it?”

 

After a moment, both guards relaxed their tense postures and stepped aside. The other guard, who had yet to speak, piped up. “Please forgive us for behaving so rudely. Of course we have heard the legends from Lady Impa herself. Please, friend, go ahead and step inside.”

 

Link made his way up the staircase and was about to open the impressive double doors when he noticed someone kneeling on the wrap-around porch. The loose sole of his boot caught a bit on the uppermost step and made a scuffling noise, which startled the girl and caused her to stand abruptly and, strangely enough, cover most of her face with her hands.

 

“A man?!” she cried, shortly to be followed by, “Huh? Is that…?! It’s… a Sheikah Slate! Could you be the hero my grandmother told me about? What was his name?”

 

“Hello,” Link broke in, “I’m Link. What’s your name?”

 

“My name is Pa… Paa… Paay…” She huffed in frustration but managed to get out: “My name is Paya!” In an undertone, she added, “I know I should be able to say that easily, seeing as how it’s my own name and all.” Paya took a deep breath and raised her voice back to a normal speaking tone. “I’m so…sorry. Anyway, my grandmother’s been awaiting your return ever since I was little. Plea…please hurry inside.”

 

Link did as he was asked, moving to throw the doors wide open. The room beyond was lit by a few dim oil lamps, which meant it was rather gloomy inside. On the other side of the room, a figure wearing a very wide-brimmed hat knelt on a pile of cushions.

 

“So you’re finally awake,” came a somewhat hoarse voice. The figure looked up, and under the brim of the hat, Link could now see the wizened face of an old woman. She grinned widely. “It has been quite a long time… Link. I am much older now, but… you remember me, don’t you?”

 

Link stood silently in the doorway.

 

“What is the matter? You are looking at me as though I am a stranger to you. Those eyes… They lack the light of familiarity. It is I, courageous one. Impa. Surely you must at least remember the name Impa?”

 

“No,” Link answered, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything from before I woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection.”

 

“I see…” Impa responded, “So you _have_ lost your memory. My sister, Purah, thought you might.” She leant back a bit. “Well, it matters not. In fact, that may actually be a blessing in disguise for the time being. Dearest Link… Please come a bit closer.”

 

Link moved into the room, shutting the door behind him. He knelt on one of the cushions on the floor and looked at Impa.

 

“A hundred years ago… Yes… A hundred years ago, the kingdom of Hyrule was destroyed. After you fell, Princess Zelda’s final wish was to place you in a sacred slumber. And then, all alone, she went to face Ganon. Before she went to nobly meet her fate, she entrusted me with some words she wished to say to you. I have been waiting a century to deliver the princess’s message.” Impa leant forward again. “ _However_!” she exclaimed, “These words, which the princess risked her life to leave you… Well, if you are to hear them, you must be prepared to risk your life as well. But I am afraid that burden may be too much to bear while you are still without your memories. I leave the choice to you. When you feel you are ready to receive the princess’s message, return to me.”

 

“I’m ready now,” Link insisted.

 

“Ha!” Impa exclaimed, “Not a memory to your name, and you are still as intent as ever to charge forward with courage and justice on your side.” She smiled approvingly. “You have not changed a bit. Once a hero, always a hero.” Clasping her hands in her lap, Impa added, “Very well.” She then asked him to fetch her a large, folded cloth from one of the nearby shelves and used it as an aid as she described the origins of Calamity Ganon.

 

Link idly noted that the pictures were all printed rather than embroidered, presumably because printing would take a great deal less time and effort in a post-apocalyptic world. Especially since even the printing involved a lot of fine detail. _And how do I know all that?_ He wondered to himself. _Did I know a seamstress before?_

 

After Impa finished her story, there was a long moment of silence before she added, “A hundred years ago, in preparation for the foretold revival of Ganon, we strove to follow the lead of our ancestors of ten thousand years prior.” She sighed heavily. “But… in the end… Despite our best efforts and careful planning, we underestimated his power. In order to avoid ever making that grave mistake again, the princess left you these words: free the four Divine Beasts. That is what she said.”

 

“Divine Beasts?” Link asked.

 

“The four Divine Beasts are the ancient Sheikah weapons wielded by the four Champions whom Ganon defeated,” Impa explained. “Vah Rudania, controlled by Daruk of the Gorons. Vah Medoh, controlled by Revali of the Rito. Vah Ruta, controlled by Mipha of the Zora. And Vah Naboris, controlled by Urbosa of the Gerudo. It would be extremely ill-advised to face Ganon without the power of the Divine Beasts to help you. You must infiltrate the Divine Beasts that were stolen away by Ganon a hundred years ago and bring them back to our side. More information about these Divine Beasts can be found by locating the four races scattered across Hyrule,” she added.

 

The Sheikah Slate chirped, and Link pulled it out to examine it. The map page was active, and four pulsating yellow dots were distributed across Hyrule, presumably coinciding with the locations of the Divine Beasts.

 

“The Sheikah Slate will guide you on your way. You must go where it tells you and meet with each leader there.” Impa paused, squinting at the slate. “…It seems to me that your Sheikah Slate is not yet complete. In order for it to help you best in your quest, you will need to have it examined by an expert. Purah is at the research lab in Hateno Town and should be able to help you.”

 

“I see,” said Link. “Just as well I was going there anyway for some supplies, then.”

 

“Speaking of supplies,” Impa commented, “Those rags you wear are hardly befitting of a hero. Tell Claree, the tailor here, to give you a set of Sheikah armour and to bill me.”

 

Aware that the clothing would take several days to make, Link headed over to the general store to sell some of the meat and raw furs and hides from the Great Plateau before making a beeline for the tailor’s shop. Claree was clearly somewhat taken aback at the idea of selling the Sheikah-exclusive armour to a Hylian, but accepted Link’s word and started taking measurements.

 

“It’ll be about a week before this is done,” she told him. “Do you need anything else? There are some unsized stockings and things on that shelf over there.”

 

Once Claree had finished taking his measurements, Link stepped over to the aforementioned shelf and examined the goods there: a small collection of scarves, ready-made gauntlets in a couple of sizes and several pairs of plain, off-white woollen stockings.

 

“How much for these?” he asked, indicating a pair of stockings and one of the sets of gauntlets, which turned out to fit him almost perfectly.

 

“They’re 60 rupees each,” Claree told him.

 

“And the scarves?” he asked.

 

“Those are 40 each.”

 

“I’ll take them,” Link decided, and dug into his coin purse.

 

A hundred and sixty rupees poorer, Link exited the tailor’s shop and descended the slope again. There was a cooking fire at the other end of the village square, and he was starving.

 

An hour later Link made his way to the local Shrine. He had spotted its upper half at the top of the cliff overlooking the village and thought he might as well activate the travel gate – and possibly solve the shrine puzzle itself.

 

Which turned out not to be a puzzle at all, but rather something called a ‘combat trial’.

 

_This is going to be fun_ , Link thought to himself.


	2. The Road to Hateno

Eight days later, Link and Sky made their way down the slope from Kakariko and toward the bridge. Link wanted to stop by the Duelling Peaks Inn before heading over to Hateno; one of the Sheikah had offhandedly mentioned that there was money to be made in catching and taming horses for sale.

Just as Sky was about to set hoof on the bridge, a voice called out to Link from the bushes to his right.

“Hey! I can tell you’ve trained your body well… I’d say… you’re familiar with both sword and bow, correct? That’s a good skill set. Why don’t you join the Yiga Clan?”

“…Yiga Clan?” Link asked, a little wary.

“What? You don’t know? Fine… I’ll tell you. The Yiga Clan… It’s… A powerful, brave group of warriors founded by Master Kohga and dedicated to defeating a hero thought long dead.” The Yiga paused expectantly.

“Sorry, not interested.”

“ _Whaaat_?! I will take your life for this insult!” And with a pop, the nondescript traveller hiding in the bushes was suddenly wearing a red-and-white version of Link’s own Sheikah garb.

Link drew his bow and released a single arrow which, by sheer happenstance considering the poor quality of his bow, struck the Yiga in the heart and killed him in a rather anticlimactic instant.

* * *

The Yiga hit the ground with a resounding thud and Link dismounted, intending to examine the corpse’s pockets. Pockets which, it turned out, contained an inexplicable bunch of bananas and about fifty rupees. “How did the bananas even fit in there?” Link wondered to himself as he remounted Sky and spurred her into a trot.

The ride back to the Duelling Peaks took about another three hours. When they arrived, it was to the delicious aroma of stew wafting through the inn doors. Tasseren’s wife, Solaine, exited the inn and flagged Link down with a cheery, “Come in and join us for lunch!”

While they ate, Link asked Tasseren, “Is there a market for horses? I mean, the farmers can’t always have time to catch and train their own, right?”

Tasseren nodded and explained, “Aye, if you catch a horse and decide to sell it, we’ll pay you a base rate of 1,200 rupees. If, after training, it turns out to be a decent workhorse, you get another 1,150 when we see you next. And,” he added with a glint in his eye, “If it’s a really good, strong ‘un, we’ll give you another 2,300 on top of the base rate!”

“Sounds good,” Link told him. “I was actually thinking of going now: I could use the money!”

Putting words to action, Link set down his bowl, thanked Solaine, tossed a titbit of his lunch to the stable dog and headed out to the forest by the riverbank. As he walked, Link adjusted his brand-new Sheikah gear and pulled out the improvised halter. After a moment’s consideration, he tied it around his waist so that it could not swing in the wind and give his presence away.

After a few minutes, Link spotted a small herd of horses between the trees. It was also to his advantage that, moments later, the skies opened up and rain started coming down in great sheets. The horses were so preoccupied with the nuisance of getting wet that they utterly failed to notice him before he was right behind the large grey mare with small white speckles. By the time the horse spotted him, Link was already on her back and clinging hard.

The mare bucked furiously for quite a while but eventually, mere seconds before Link reached the point of exhaustion and no longer being able to stay on her back, she settled enough to only glare at him and make threatening noises. Link gently urged her in the general direction of the Inn but had to redirect the mare several times as she stubbornly tried to turn back toward the herd.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of strenuous negotiations, Link managed to enter the stableyard. “Give me a minute,” he called to the oldest stablehand, “I want to work with her for a bit. She’s feisty!” he added.

The teen nodded and said, “Right. Lemme know when you’re ready.”

It was just getting dark when Link decided the horse had settled down enough to be easier to manage. “She’s all yours,” he told the stablehand. “I’m going to have a word with Tasseren.” With a parting wave, Link trotted over to Tasseren’s post by the inn doorway.

“Back so soon?” the stablemaster asked him.

“And with a new horse for sale,” Link answered him with a nod.

“Right,” Tasseren told him, “Here’s the base fee.” He stuck his hand into one of the pouches on his belt, pulled out a pile of mixed rupees and counted them in front of Link.

“Is there a bed available?” Link asked as he put the money away. He paused, holding a small handful of the colourful gems between his fingers.

“One left. We had a couple of caravans in yesterday; they’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll take it.”

Eight fairly restful hours in a shared room later found Link mounting Sky for the ride to Fort Hateno. There was also a small caravan of three people and four pack horses heading in the same direction. Link received a few slightly odd looks for travelling alone, even in this safe, walled valley, but none of the merchants actually addressed him. Link spurred Sky into a trot and soon left the slow-moving caravan far behind.

Link’s ride to Fort Hateno was mostly uneventful, except for the sizable litter of kittens he came dangerously close to having when he passed the first dead Guardian near the road. By about the fifth, he had mostly become used to the sight – except for the ever-present crawling sensation on the back of his neck.

He rode through the gate a couple of hours before sunset. One of the Fort watchmen approached him shortly after arrival to tell him, “Don’t get too comfortable. We’re gonna need all hands on deck drivin’ the Stals away from the caravan that’s due in soon – they won’t get in till after sunset.”

“Stals?” Link asked, confused. “I thought the walls kept everything out?”

“Stals. Walking skeletons. They rise at night and try to eat anybody who’s outside of a village or warded area. What rock were you born under?” the man asked, incredulous.

“…I’ve lost my memory,” Link admitted after a short pause. “Warded areas?”

“These little red flags on three legs,” the guard explained, pointing to one of the two flags bordering the gate. “I dunno how they work, I think it’s a Sheikah thing, but they’ll keep pretty much everything nasty out if you ring a campsite with ‘em. Or one’s enough if you’re alone and just want to protect a tent or somethin’.”

“I see,” Link told him with a nod. “What kind of weapon should I use, is cold iron enough, or…?”

“Iron or steel work, but fire’s better. You need to cut off the head and either chop it up or burn it to kill ‘em for the night. There’s a row of torches here,” the watchman explained. “Oh, my name’s Tomlin – call me Tom. What’s yours?”

“I’m Link.”

* * *

Two hours later, Tom came to find and poke Link, who had been lightly dozing against a tree. “Hey, time to get up. It’s just about sunset.”

Link got up, stretched and went to check on Sky. The mare was tethered to a hitching post near the odd little cabin, contentedly munching on some grains in the trough.

“Hey, we’ve got work to do,” he murmured to her as he checked the fit of her bridle. “Come on.” Link mounted Sky and rode over to the gate, where Tom handed waited with a pair of burning torches and one of which he gave to Link. There were several watchmen on the wall, armed with bows and standing near lit braziers.

A couple of mounted watchmen rode out to meet the caravan and, like them, Link decided to find the convoy and act as an escort on the way back. He reached it after about half an hour’s ride, just as the sun finished setting.

For a brief moment, all was still and suspiciously quiet. Then, with a spray of rocks and dirt, a dozen skeletons – the remains of an assortment of Moblins and Bokoblins – burst out of the ground on either side of the road.

“For Hateno!” One of the guards charged, rapidly followed by the other two. Link kept back, watching the rear of the caravan. This was just as well because one of the former Moblins managed to sneak up behind the last packhorse and was just drawing its arm back for a swipe when Link rode forward, leant over and set its skull aflame with the torch he still held.

The Stalmoblin danced about trying to put out the flames and was so distracted by this activity that it utterly failed to register anything going on around itself before Link took its head with his traveller’s sword. The creature collapsed into a pile of bones which, moments later, disappeared in a puff of smoke. Link only vaguely registered this, being too preoccupied with watching for others.

Half a dozen skirmishes later found them entering the gate of the fort. Many of the watchmen breathed sighs of relief. The guards who had remained at the gate set about closing it behind the last packhorse while Tom started making a communal dinner. Everyone contributed at least one ingredient to the pot – including a powerful spice that one of the merchants added to the collection.

“Goron spice,” Tom told Link when he asked. “It’s strong stuff, so a little goes a long way.”

Dinner was excellent, if a little spicy for Link’s tastes, and there was plenty to go around. Link learnt quite a bit about this new world he had woken into just by sitting quietly and listening to the conversations around himself. For example, if you were foolish enough to travel alone at night, you might well find yourself encountering not just the smaller Stals but also something called a Stalnox. A creature which, by the sound of it, was several times the size and difficulty of those smaller beasties and not to be trifled with – even if you **were** armed with some sort of fire-based weapon.

Dawn found Link leaving the fort and, once again, riding east. As the road exited the forest bordering the fort, Link could see that it followed the course of the river for what seemed like the majority of its curve. On the other side of the river, there was a sizable clay pit and at least one lime kiln. Probably a half-day’s journey away beyond the clay pit, he could see another Sheikah Tower. There was no bridge that he could see, so clearly crossing the river would have to wait.

At midday he passed a sign pointing north, indicating that there was a cemetery nestled between the cliffs. Link could see a group of mourners picking their way between the headstones, clearly going to pay their respects to one of the occupants. He rode on.

About an hour before sunset, Link arrived at a crossroads. Due east, according to the sign, there was a boarding house at the edge of Ovli Plain. To the southeast, the road curved down toward the river and, presumably, Hateno. Since there was no guarantee of another safe place to spend the night further along, Link took the path uphill toward the dormitory.

Located right next to a field of rye, the boarding house turned out to be a sizeable three-storey building with an adjacent stable, which Link took a few minutes to settle Sky into before going to investigate the actual dorm. The ground floor turned out to be a large common room occupied mostly by farmhands, who greeted him cheerfully and invited him to share a meal with them.

After about an hour of tasty food, increasingly bawdy drinking songs and listening to the farmhands poking fun at each other, Link decided to call it a day. There was a free bunk in a tiny little room on the middle floor, one which was a little on the short side and which the average man might find a bit cramped, but which was just long enough for Link and his limited height.

Just before he dropped off to sleep, Link heard heavy work boots tromping up the stairs, past his door, and down the hall to what he assumed to be a somewhat bigger shared room. Silence followed, and Link drifted off.

At around dawn, Link was startled out of bed by the crowing of a Cucco. He decided in favour of breakfast, as opposed to going back to bed, and made his way downstairs. Breakfast, as provided by the communal pot downstairs, was apparently bread and pottage. This was fine by Link, who pulled out his own eating utensils and a pre-cooked bird thigh to go with the pottage and tucked straight in.

The farmhands were all gone, presumably to work the fields, so Link quickly washed his dishes and went to go fetch Sky from the stable. Half an hour later they were on the road again. After about an hour’s ride Link spotted a natural land bridge across the river, with more road beyond the bridge, running very close to the river, indeed.

By mid-afternoon, they had reached the foot of the tower, which had a few bits of thorny vine clinging to its base and a man standing over a pile of dead vines, armed with a billhook. Link dismounted a short distance away and led Sky the rest of the way to the tower.

“Hello, friend,” the man greeted him, “Come to see the tower, have you?”

“That’s right,” Link answered. He moved to tether Sky to the metal netting of the tower, conveniently located next to a ward flag, and added, “Planning on climbing it, actually.”

“Me too!” the unnamed man exclaimed. “The view up there must be incredible.”

Putting words into action, Link started climbing the tower one platform at a time. The man followed suit from a slightly different part of the tower and, after a few minutes, they reached the top.

While his temporary companion was preoccupied with the (admittedly incredible) view, Link made his way over to the pedestal and activated it. Within moments, he had a more up-to-date map of the entire eastern half of the Necluda Valley.

After having his fill of gawking, the man turned to Link. “My name’s Watkin, by the way. I’m a tanner over there,” he added, indicating one of the buildings near the clay pit. “And speaking of which, I really should get back to work.”

“I’m Link. Um, before you go, how far to the nearest bunkhouse between here and Hateno?” Link asked.

“… I don’t think Toph’s orchard has any free beds,” Watkin said after a moment, “But there’s a guardhouse near Firly Plateau that should have something. Follow the road and take the first right. Can’t miss it,” he added. “You can’t make it today, though. And now I really do have to go.”

“Safe climbing,” Link told Watkin, who was already starting to make his way down awkwardly. He watched as the tanner made his way back to his workplace, then got out some firewood and a flint, intending to cook some late lunch. After a moment’s thought, Link decided to make enough for leftovers. He might, after all, find himself in a situation where a cooking fire would be inadvisable if not outright impossible at some stage.

Since he would be here for several hours, Link came to the conclusion that now might be a good time to sort through his ingredients and pluck the birds that he had caught on the Plateau. Perhaps someone in Hateno would be interested in buying things like feathers and hides from him?

Link’s evening was uneventful up until moonrise. Unlike previous nights, when the moon had been a soothing if somewhat eerie white, it was now a bright, bloody red and surrounded by a threatening aura that appeared to dance like the northern lights. All of Link’s hair, including that located on his body, stood on end as he stared at this strange apparition for the next two hours.

About an hour before midnight Link started to notice little red motes of… _something_ … floating in the air as the air around him began to turn scarlet. By midnight, as the moon reached its highest position in the sky, all the light around him was a disturbingly bright, bloody red and Link could swear he heard ominous music.

At the very stroke of midnight, the possibly-imaginary music went silent, and Link heard Zelda’s voice calling his name again.

_Be on your guard. Ganon’s power grows… It rises to its peak under the hour of the blood moon. By its glow, the aimless spirits of monsters slain in the name of the light return to flesh. Link… Please be careful._

Much quicker than they had first appeared, the motes receded, and the moonlight returned to its more natural white glow.

Link’s sleep was short and fitful that night.

* * *

After spending the night atop the tower, Link made his way back down to Sky who had nibbled down most of the grass at the tower’s foot but had not had access to water overnight. Link briefly checked his new map and spotted a tiny little pond about halfway between the tower and their approximate destination. This would make for an acceptable lunchtime stop. Putting thoughts to action, Link mounted up and set out in the direction of Firly Plain.

As expected, they arrived at the little pond shortly before midday. While Sky drank and grazed, Link nibbled on a cold lunch of some of his oldest leftovers, which he had extricated from the Slate. After about an hour and a half, Link decided to move on toward the watch-house.

The watch-house, it turned out, was an impressively large stone structure with a much smaller lean-to stable along the right-hand wall. Several watchmen milled around outside, presumably in anticipation of making their way to whatever guardposts might be nearby. They paid virtually no mind to this stranger in their midst, only giving him a brief glance before returning to their previous conversations.

After settling Sky in the stable, Link entered the watch-house to find it had two rooms of similar size on the ground floor: a common room with benches lining the walls and a combined kitchen and dining room at the back. Steps leading upward indicated that there might well be a bunkroom on the floor above.

As Link prepared to leave the next morning, one of the remaining watchmen, a young man about his own age, flagged him down. “You’re heading to Hateno, right?” At Link’s affirmative response, the watchman continued, “I don’t s’pose you could take this note to my parents?” Here he waved a wax-sealed envelope in Link’s general direction.

“I guess I could,” Link told him.

“Thanks,” the watchman replied. “We live just past the frog pond. Ask for my dad, Efren Brewer. Somebody’ll point you in the right direction.”

The ride to Hateno was pleasant, if somewhat breezy. Link suspected it might be early autumn – a suspicion that was confirmed when he witnessed the harvest in progress on the potato field between the road and the steep cliff overlooking what the Slate’s map referred to as Lake Jarrah.

It was very shortly before sunset when Link approached the western gate of Hateno Town. He dismounted at the entrance and started to lead Sky through the town. A tall man dressed in modest farmer’s garb was chatting with the gate watchman, who was leaning against one of the gateposts. Both men looked up as Link approached, and the tall man greeted Link with, “Hail, stranger! What brings you to our peaceful town?”

“Supplies,” Link told him with a shrug. “And one of the watchmen by Firly Plain asked me to deliver a letter. Where might I find Efren Brewer?”

“Efren? He lives up there,” the watchman piped up, indicating one of the plateaus overlooking the forest to the north. “Turn left at the lamppost there and follow the path through the yard with all the Cuccos. There’s a ramp beside Tamana’s house; Efren lives at the back of that first plateau. Don’t go up to the second one, the one with five houses: that’s too far.”

“But maybe you should do that in the morning,” the tall man added. “It’s getting late, and Efren goes to bed with the sun. There’s a very good Inn here in Hateno. Want me to give you a quick tour of the shops?”

“Yes, please,” Link nodded earnestly.

“Alrighty then. First up, the tailor’s shop, Ventest Clothing. It’s in my daughter’s capable hands these days, so I’ve got a lot of spare time. I’m Seldon, by the way. What’s your name?”

“I’m Link.”

“Good to meet you. And here we have Pruce’s general store, East Wind. They sell a bit of everything, most of it pretty good.” The tour continued on in this vein, Seldon pointing out everything from the butcher’s shop to the saddlemaker and the dye shop until finally, they reached the town square. The square was bordered by a communal kitchen to the south, a stone statue of a man armed with a sword and surrounded by brightly-coloured painted clay pots to the east and a pair of almost oversized buildings built on a hill to the north. “That’s the Hero’s Statue – built in honour of the Ancient Hero, y’know; there’s the headman’s house, and _that_ ,” Seldon paused for dramatic effect, “Is Ton Pu Inn, run by the lovely Prima and her dad, Leop. There’s another blacksmith up there by Zelkoa Pond. Just follow the road and take a left at the first windmill. That’s about it, really,” he finished.

“Thanks for the tour, Seldon,” Link told him with a smile. “What are the pots for?”

“Those contain offerings to the Hero: it’s good luck to drop in arrows or rupees, and maybe they’ll lure him over here someday,” Seldon explained.

 “I see. Thanks again. I’ll probably come by tomorrow for some new clothes.”

“Great!” Seldon enthused. “I’ll see you then. Goodnight!”

Link bid Seldon goodnight as well before settling Sky in the stable and making his way up the Inn steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: A certain aspect at the end of this chapter was shamelessly filched from [this Tumblr thread](https://rayshippouuchiha.tumblr.com/post/181626111551/link-must-be-down-right-terrifying-for-normal).


	3. In Hateno

The bell attached to the door of Ventest Clothing rang as Link stepped through, drawing the attention of its dark-haired proprietor.

 

“Good morning! How can I help you?”

 

“Morning. I’d like to commission some travelling clothes – what would you recommend?”

 

The next half-hour consisted of a long and involved negotiation over quantities, materials and prices, and ended in a mutually-acceptable agreement: two linen undershirts, a woollen overtunic, a waterproof cloak and two pairs of linen trousers, all for the relatively reasonable price of 2,100 rupees.

 

“Is there anyone in town who might be willing to knit me a woolly jumper or two?” Link asked.

 

“My mother knits, and might be willing – I think she’s between projects right now. I’ll ask her. In any case, this is gonna take a while, probably around two weeks,” Sophie told him as she finished jotting down his measurements. “I wish Old Smith Greg had actually managed to make a sewing machine that works,” she added with a sigh. “He was one of the journeymen who survived the Calamity. My granddad said Greg found drawings of the sewing machines from back then in his master’s records and tried to figure out how to make ‘em, but he never did get one working. He wasn’t really much of a smith, according to Granddad. Wasn’t interested in doing more than passing his exams, which is why he survived the Calamity when most others didn’t. There was a guild meeting in Castle Town right before the Calamity, and every decent smith was invited – _he_ wasn’t. We’ve got one of his attempts at a sewing machine: it’s over there, under that cloth.” Here she pointed to what Link had assumed to be a pile of dusty scraps, in the corner of the workshop.

 

“That’s alright, I’m sure I can keep myself busy until then. Can you tell me where to find the saddlemaker?”

 

“He lives in the brewery, back that way,” Sophie told him, pointing toward the back wall of her workshop. “Can I ask your name? For the commission.”

 

“I’m Link.”

 

“Got a byname to go with it?”

 

“…No.”

 

“That’s a really common name, so I’m going to need _something_ ,” Sophie stressed. “Lots of people name their kids after the Hero – there are several just here in Hateno.”

 

“…Forester, I suppose,” Link told her, after a moment’s deliberation.

 

Sophie jotted that down and showed him out. “Thank you for the business, and I’ll see you in about two weeks. I’m sure my mother, Violet, will track you down to talk about the jumpers,” she added.

 

With a nod and a wave, Link turned left toward the inn. When he entered the inn stable, Sky was pawing impatiently at the floor of her stall. “Come on, girl,” Link soothed her, “Settle down.”

 

It took a few minutes for Sky to hold still long enough for Link to get a bridle on her and lead her out of the stall. Finally, after much soothing, Link was able to mount and ride out toward the brewery and Efren. Why would a saddlemaker live in a brewery, though?

 

The answer, it turned out, was simple: Efren, the saddlemaker, was married to Olga, the local brewer. Efren’s workshop was located at the back of the building and possessed its own, horse-sized entrance. A man whom Link assumed to be Efren was standing next to the open doors, wiping his hands on a rag.

 

“Hello, there,” the man called out to Link as he approached.

 

“Good morning. Are you Efren?“ Link asked as he dismounted.

 

“That I am,” Efren agreed.

 

“My name’s Link …er …Forester. I have a letter for you, from one of the watchmen on Firly Plain. Said he was your son?” Link asked as he pulled out the note and handed it over.

 

“Ah, Ortin. He never was any good at introducing himself. How much do I owe you?”

 

“Call it ten rupees. I also need a saddle, for this one,” Link told him, indicating Sky.

 

The saddle, as it turned out, was going to be expensive. 7,000 rupees was going to take a bit of work to earn, so Link spent the next couple of days selling his extraneous catches and hides, running errands and doing odd jobs for several of the local tradesmen. This had the advantage of giving him an excuse to meet them and get to know their general character reasonably well. He was also able to commission various and sundry pieces of equipment, such as good, sturdy winter boots and a concealing pouch for his Slate. There was no need to advertise his identity to every potential Yiga he might encounter.

 

On the fourth day after his arrival in Hateno, which was also the last day of the local working week, Link stopped by the bowyer where he sold his Boko bow for a song and bought a somewhat-more-powerful traveller’s bow for a little more than it was actually worth.

 

That done, he made his way back toward the headman’s house and the smithy behind it. The smith, Nik, was pleased to sell him some chainmail in exchange for a few rusty old weapons that Link had found lying around at Fort Hateno.

 

“It’s good iron,” Nik told Link, “So I can smelt it down and use it for something useful.”

 

It was only about ten in the morning, so Link decided to ask around about Purah. The first couple of people he asked had no idea what he was talking about, but one little old lady, Uma, lit up at the opportunity to gossip and actually be heard.

 

“Oh, yes, Purah. Last I heard, she lived at the very top of this hill – see the strange building up there, behind that windmill? I think it used to be a lighthouse, before the Calamity. That, or a windmill, but who would want to climb all the way up there for some flour? She hasn’t been seen down here in months, though that assistant of hers comes down here just about every week.” Uma sized him up and down. “It’s a bit of a walk up there – got a horse?”

 

‘A bit of a walk’ turned out to be quite an understatement. Six hours after mounting Sky, Link finally passed the last of the warning signs on the slope (Hateno Ancient Tech Lab – Enter at your own risk!) and found himself facing an odd, covered, unlit brazier next to the front door. He tethered Sky to a convenient hitching post facing one of the numerous sheer drops surrounding the lab, made sure the knot was secure and turned his attention to the sign beside the door.

 

_If the flame is blue, the furnace is hot!  DO NOT TOUCH!_

Link shrugged and opened the door. The room on the other side was enormous, lined with bookshelves, and absolutely covered in loose papers. Books concealed the surface of each and every tabletop – some were even stacked on the floor. Something in Link winced at the casual disrespect shown such precious items.

 

A little girl was standing on a stool by one of the tables. She turned to look at Link as he approached and said, “Good morning.”

 

“…It’s late in the afternoon,” Link told her.

 

“Is it? I haven’t been outside today. This is the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab. Do you have some business with the director?”

 

“I do,” Link said with a nod.

 

“The director is in the back. A terribly busy person, that one. Please try to keep it brief.” The girl was unsettlingly serious for such a young child.

 

Link trotted over to the man in the back, who was reading from a lectern beside the rearmost bookcase and jotting down notes on a clipboard. The man failed, utterly, to register his approach, so Link cleared his throat politely.

 

The man jumped a little, spun around and said, “Oh! Good afternoon. I imagine you’ve never seen so many books in one place. Pretty incredible, isn’t it? We’ve gathered all of Hyrule’s known literature on ancient civilisations here. As for the actual number of books, well…” the man trailed off, finally seeming to notice Link properly. “…Hmm? Is that…” he leant forward a little and raised one hand to his chin. “That thing on your waist? Is that a Sheikah… There’s no mistaking it.” The hand dropped in surprise. “That’s a real Sheikah Slate, isn’t it?! I’ve never actually seen one in person! If you could just show me the runes on it. I’d be most appreciative,” the man said earnestly, starting to get excited.

 

Link cautiously obliged and the man hummed. “Stasis… Ah. Magnesis… Yes, yes. The remote bomb and Cryonis… And what else? Let’s see…” he mumbled. “So that’s it for runes, but… That’s strange. You seem to be missing something. I don’t understand.” The man muttered to himself for a while before shaking himself. “Ah! Where are my manners? I nearly forgot to introduce myself! My name is Symin. You are… Link, right?”

 

“You know my name?” Link asked, startled.

 

“Lady Impa sent a messenger pigeon last month. You see… We were told, “A young man holding a Sheikah Slate will appear. And you must do all you can to help him. He will be the hope that awakens from the Slumber of Restoration. His name will be Link.” Oh, dear!” Symin exclaimed with a jerk, “I forgot to tell you something very important.” He turned his attention toward the front door. “Director! Listen, Ms Director! This is the _real_ Sheikah Slate!”

 

“Director?” Link wondered and turned his head. The only other person in the room was the little girl.

 

“Oh, that’s right,” Symin said with a wince, “I haven’t introduced our director. Ms Purah happens to be right over there… As the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab director, Ms Purah is the world’s foremost authority on ancient Hyrule’s culture.”

 

Link turned around fully and stared at the little girl, who jumped almost impossibly high and singsonged, “Check it!”

 

Link once again turned to face Symin, who earnestly told him, “I have the utmost respect for Ms Purah and all she’s accomplished. I’m honoured to be her assistant. On that note, Link… You see, the director might look like a young girl, but… Well… Maybe it’s not my place to tell you these things. You should talk to Ms Purah herself.”

 

Thoroughly confused and mystified, Link trotted back to the little girl, who crowed, “Hey! Heeeey! Are you surprised?! The director of this laboratory is _not_ Symin! It’s _me_! Snappity snap!” she added, worsening Link’s confusion. “Anywaaay. Linky! Do you remember any dreams from your time in the Slumber of Restoration? You don’t look like you’ve changed a bit in the last century, but _something_ must have happened in all that time! Well, no matter! I’m just happy you’re still in one piece.”

 

Link must have worn a strange expression because Purah’s face fell and she asked him, “Linky? What’s with that look? You do still remember me, right?”

 

“…I don’t remember anything.”

 

“Really?! Well! I’m so shocked I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to recover from this! Even though, a hundred years ago, I took you to the Shrine of Resurrection after Calamity Ganon fatally wounded you… Even though I was the one who put you safely into the Slumber of Restoration… Despite all that, you still don’t remember me?”

 

“No, sorry,” Link told her.

 

“Hmm…” Purah muttered to herself, jotting down notes on a clipboard she pulled from seemingly nowhere, “As expected. After one hundred years in the Slumber of Restoration, subject has lost all memories. Noted! Oh, sorry! I have a bad habit of taking notes rather abruptly like that. It’s a charming quirk, isn’t it? Anywho… Do you have any questions for me?” she asked.

 

“…Aren’t you a child?”

 

Purah stiffened in outrage. “How very rude!” After a beat, she relaxed and mumbled, “Hm, or perhaps it’s not rude at all… I suppose that’s actually a rather logical conclusion to jump to. The Truth is,” she continued in a normal speaking voice, “I look this way because of a failed experiment. Well, I say “failed”, but… in some ways, it was a success. I documented the full affair in my diary upstairs. _But!_ The whole thing is embarrassing, so I insist you refrain from reading it! Anyway. Enough about that! Back to the topic at hand! Here you are, after one hundred years! Here to defeat Calamity Ganon, who is growing in strength with every passing moment! And to rescue our beloved Princess Zelda!” she cheered. “That is, if you’ve got the courage to try.”

 

Purah looked like she was about to say something more, but Link got there first. “I plan to – I promised King Rhoam’s ghost I would.”

 

“A ghost, you say? Well, I hear some soldiers did try and take his body to the Temple of Time…” Purah muttered unintelligibly to herself for a few moments before returning her attention to Link. “I need you to run an errand for me. You know the unlit furnace on the wall just outside this laboratory? Could you please bring the blue flame from the ancient furnace in town? Oh, and also use it to light our furnace? This sweet little Guidance Stone will start working once you do that, allowing us to restore your missing runes!” she told him indicating an odd pedestal in the corner, which Link had failed to notice until that moment. She muttered something else to herself, too softly for Link to make out.

 

“I suppose I could,” Link replied, “The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow’s my first chance for an actual rest day since Kakariko, two weeks ago, and I’m exhausted!”

 

Purah was a little disappointed at having to wait, but said, “Okay then, I’m counting on you for that blue flame! There’s a bundle of torches over by the door there; Symin usually uses about twenty of them. Also, those unlit, stone braziers on the way up here? Those are to help hold the flame on the way up – each torch only has enough fuel for maybe fifteen minutes. It would be nice if that useless lamplighter, Norm Brewer, weren’t too scared of the blue flame to keep the braziers lit!” Grudgingly, she added, “At least he keeps the oil topped up…” She paused and added, “Oh, and since you’re coming that way, could you also get our laundry back from Clavia, the headman’s wife? It would save Symin some room for other supplies on his next trip up.”

 

“Alright,” Link acquiesced. “Anything else?”

 

“No, I think that’s everything. Thanks, Linky!” Purah chirped.

 

Link picked up the bundle of torches on his way out.

 

Outside, the sun was setting as Link unhitched and mounted Sky. The ride down was much quicker, which meant that Link arrived back at the inn in time for a late dinner of leftover bread and pottage. The dining room at the inn, which clearly doubled as a pub on rest days, was full of people in various stages of inebriation. Half of the assembled were playing some sort of card game, and the other half were singing loudly and at varying levels of off-key. Since he had no plans for the next day, Link opted to join the locals for a drink or two.

 


	4. Hateno Rest Day - an interlude

After a bit of a lie-in, Link came to the conclusion that an actual bath – as opposed to a brief dip in a washbasin – sounded like an excellent idea. One of the inn patrons had mentioned a bathhouse in town, which Link decided to track down.

Just outside the headman’s house, Link could hear several people singing what sounded like some sort of hymn while accompanied by an unidentified wind instrument, the melody of which seemed to suit such a lovely, restful morning. After a moment, the song came to an end, and a woman’s voice could be heard giving what appeared to be a sermon.

There were a number of small children playing with a ball in the street at the western end of town, a game which Link paused for a moment to observe. There seemed to be no obvious rules, as a few children were kicking the ball, others threw it, and a couple of the oldest children juggled it from one shoulder to the other. What was evident, however, was the co-operative nature of the game. Eventually, Link continued on his way.

The bathhouse turned out to be a few minutes’ walk from the inn, a long, squat building. There was a prominent sign out front depicting steam and an almost excessively typical tin bath, the likes of which Link seriously doubted anyone in town actually owned.

One of the locals entered at the same time, so Link chose to follow him and take his cues accordingly. Which turned out to be just as well because, apparently, the done thing here was to wash the dirt off first using a tin bath virtually identical to the one on the sign, before getting into the large hot spring at the back of the building.

The hot water seeped into Link’s bones as he sat down on one of the tiled shelves underwater, which was just high enough that the water lapped at his earlobes. For the first few minutes he simply sat there, luxuriating. Eventually one of the other occupants of the pool struck up a conversation about local goings-on, which Link could not help paying attention to. Some of the information he gleaned was probably only going to be of limited use, but he did learn about the inexplicable pond at the top of Ebon Mountain, overlooking Hateno, and its similar cousin on Tuft Mountain, somewhere in Faron.

After spending about an hour in the hot spring, Link exited the building and was promptly approached by an older woman who introduced herself as Violet. The ensuing conversation, regarding measurements, colours and decorative patterns, lasted until they reached the bottom of the inn stairs. Here they parted ways, Violet heading for the bridge to the southeast and Link climbing the steps.

The inn common room was packed with patrons, most of whom were enjoying drinking out of puzzle cups or playing dice games. Shrugging, Link ordered himself a mug of weak mead and watched as one of the local drenched himself with the contents of his puzzle cup. The man’s friends – well, presumably they were friends – roared with laughter as the cup was less-than-gracefully passed onto the next person at the table. After a little while, someone brought out some sort of wind instrument – seemingly similar to the one Link had heard that morning – and struck up a lively tune, soon to be accompanied by a fiddle and varying levels of off-key singing by the other patrons.

After about an hour of this, Prima the innkeeper and some of the grooms brought out a platter of roast meat, which every person in the building queued up for. Silence ensued while everyone enjoyed this less-than-common treat too much to waste energy on talking.

After lunch Link exited the inn again, intending to explore the town a little further than what Seldon had pointed out to him the other day. After about an hour he found himself crossing a bridge over a small, water-filled ravine on the outskirts of town, a stone’s throw away from the local shrine. On the other side of the bridge, three burly men were standing outside a beautiful, if neglected, old house and preparing sledgehammers and other tools. Clearly, they were about to start knocking walls down.

The workman nearest the front door directed Link to speak to his boss, an older man wearing a surprising amount of pink.

“Afternoon!” the man told Link. “Can I help you with somethin’?”

“Hello. What’s the story of this house?” Link asked.

“Oh, it’s been empty for decades. Nobody wanted to buy it, so we’re taking it down and putting in some new buildings!”

“I can buy it!” Link declared impulsively.

“Whoa,” the man muttered under his breath, “Get a load of young moneybags… Just wants to ‘buy’ it, huh?” In a more normal, conversational tone he continued, “The demolition costs, with associated permits, and other such details, come in at fifty-thousand rupees. So when you say you want to ‘buy’ it, you’re talking about a lot of money. You got that much on you?”

“Not on me, no, but I’ve got money coming in for horses I’ve sold,” Link informed him. “And I can always catch more.”

“Heh… Figured. When I was your age, I had serious money trouble too.” He paused. “Alright, tell you what. I’ll cut you a deal. Bring thirty good, solid tree trunks to the saw pit, and you can have it for 3,000 rupees.”

“Deal!” Link exclaimed, oddly happy.

“Then get to it. And show me what you’re made of.”

“I’ll start on it the day after tomorrow,” Link told him. “I’ve already promised to run an errand for the tech lab tomorrow morning, and I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Alright, see you then. Oh, by the way, my name’s Bolson.”

“I’m Link Forester.”

That evening, when most of the townsfolk were tucked into their beds, Link left the inn once more and made a beeline for the offering pots. Curious, he reached into the first one, felt around and closed his fingers around something long and thin. An arrow shaft.

Something compelled him to take a leftover tree branch to the remaining pots. Rupees, arrows and dried meat scattered from the blow which destroyed the clay vessels. Feeling oddly satisfied, Link gathered up the offerings and stuffed everything except the arrows into his belt pouch.


	5. Side Jobs

The next morning the whole town was abuzz with rumours. The town elder, Uma, was loudly announcing to all and sundry, “My old granny told me that if the offering pots ever broke overnight, that meant the Hero had returned!”

 

Five hours and about fifteen torches later, a tired and sweaty Link panted his way up the final stretch of path leading to the Tech Lab. He just barely made it to the receptacle by the door in time to light it before his last torch went out. Almost instantaneously the odd, metallic circle set directly in front of the door lit up with a blue light that matched the ancient flame and his Sheikah Slate chimed. Link extricated the Slate from his belt and discovered that the Tech Lab was now added to the list of available warp points, but nothing else appeared to have changed.

 

He entered the building and was promptly addressed by Purah. “Hey, you! Linky, thank you so much! Now then, take a look over there!” She indicated the pedestal off to one side, with a large stone shaped like an icicle hanging over it and glowing faintly blue. “The Guidance Stone is reacting! Now then, let’s go ahead and restore those runes for you!” Purah snatched the Slate from his hand and ran full-tilt to the Guidance Stone. She fiddled with something for several moments before the blue glow intensified until a shimmering teardrop of energy landed on the Slate, which chimed once again.

 

Link walked over to the pedestal and picked up the Slate. The screen was lit with a new icon, an odd green thing a bit like a misshapen rectangle with a circle in the middle. There was also a new, unfamiliar word above the symbol.

 

“What’s a camera?” he asked.

 

Purah launched into a long, rambling explanation on the function and workings of this mysterious rune and Link waited for the babble to die down. This took several moments, but finally, he managed to get a word in edgewise.

 

“So, it’s like an incredibly realistic painting?” he asked and instantly regretted it as the chatter resumed with a vengeance.

 

Somewhere amidst the garbled commentary Link managed to catch the idea that perhaps this ‘camera’ could help him regain some of his lost memories, although _how_ , exactly, remained a mystery. The only thing he truly understood was the mention of Impa. Perhaps she would be a little more coherent?

 

Eventually, Purah’s ramble trailed off, and she told him, somewhat more understandably, “When you’ve been to see Impa, please bring me all the ancient materials you can. Scavenge a few Guardians,” she added, as though this task were as simple as killing red Bokoblins with bombs! “Bring them either to me or to Robbie at the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab.” She snatched the Slate out of his hand and fiddled with it for a few moments. When she handed it back, there was a new, pulsating golden dot on the map screen, far to the north. “If you bring us Guardian parts, we’ll give you something good as a reward.”

 

“…Who’s Robbie?” Link asked.

 

“Robbie is my subordinate. There, I said it. I think he’s still up on the edge of Akkala researching Guardians… Haven’t seen him in a century, though, so who knows.” Purah shrugged.

 

 

 

It was late afternoon as Link tromped down the hill toward Hateno. The weather was pleasant for a mid-autumn day, if a little chilly, and the east wind at his back helped push him down the slope. As he walked, Link considered his options. Undoubtedly someone in Hyrule would have odd jobs he could do for a little extra money while he waited to be paid for his horses, and perhaps he could even deliver messages. More warp points would make it easy for him to transport notes or parcels much quicker than whatever courier service already existed…

 

The sun had long since set by the time Link arrived back in town, so he made his way directly to the inn. Dinner turned out to be - surprise, surprise – bread and pottage. Unlike the last several meals, this one involved quite a lot of pumpkin and celery. When Link asked one of the locals about it, he learnt that the pumpkins he had seen in Kakariko were called Fortified Pumpkins and that those were harvested in the previous month of Wildmoon. This variety, on the other hand, was called Giant’s Pumpkin and had only just come into season.

 

“So, what do you call this season, then?” Link asked.

 

“Why, this is Autumoon,” Leop, Prima’s father, told him. “Where are you from that you don’t know that?”

 

“I lost my memory,” Link told him frankly. “I don’t know what happened.”

 

After a brief awkward silence, the subject of conversation at Link’s table turned to mundane farming matters, and Link chose to focus on his meal. He also made a mental note to see if he could buy a calendar from somewhere.

 

On his way up to bed, Link was handed an extra blanket. “It’s going to be cold tomorrow,” Leop told him, “I can feel it in my bones.”

 

Shortly before dawn, Link made his way down to the stable to prepare Sky for the day ahead. There was a stable boy sleeping in a haystack near Sky’s stall, who only awoke when Link was already leading the mare out.

 

“Hey, are you leaving?” the boy asked.

 

“No, not yet. Bolson asked me to do some logging for him, but we’ll be back tonight,” Link explained. “Can you tell me where to go?”

 

The boy directed Link to a flat area northwest of Midla Woods, then added, “You’ll prolly wanna borrow another horse from the stables by the gate; she’s too light to be very good at it on her own!”

 

Link nodded his thanks and started leading Sky toward the other end of town, taking a moment to pause at the top of the slope to admire the foliage. The leaves at the forest edge had started turning colour overnight and were now a mixture of green, yellow and red.

Four hours and a lot of training later, Link, Sky and the older mare Link had borrowed from the workhorse stables had tushed four fairly young and relatively lightweight trees down to the saw-pit. He would need a much larger, stronger draught-horse to move any of the gargantuan trees that had remained untouched for what looked like centuries, but surely Bolson could use these twenty-odd-year trees for floorboards, at least?

 

Over lunch, the saw-pit workers - who had introduced themselves as Evan and Crag -conveniently told Link all about the rumour they had recently heard about a horse of unusual size, far to the west of Hateno. Apparently, it was significantly larger than any draught-horse anyone still living had ever seen. Link made a mental note to go investigate if he ever found himself in the area.

 

After lunch, the work continued, this time to the rhythm of some folksong or other. At one point Crag made an offhanded comment about unusual amounts of rain in the direction of Zora’s Domain, which Link quietly made a note of as he made his way back up the slope.

 

Link and the horses managed to bring in another six young trees before Sky started to flag and he decided to call it a day.

 

“If Bolson asks,” Link told Evan, “That’s ten trees out of thirty. I’ll be back in the morning.”

 

“I’ll tell ‘im,” Evan promised. “See you then!”

 

Two days of tushing later the work was done, and Sky was in need of another rest day. In order to keep himself occupied, Link decided to investigate the local shrine – the puzzle of which turned out to be frustrating, if uncomplicated – before teleporting to the Duelling Peaks Inn to talk to Tasseren.

“That horse you caught?“ Tasseren told him, “She’s the best spotted horse we’ve had in a while. Here’s your fee,” he added. “And if you can catch more like that, I’ll be thrilled to buy ‘em off you!”

 

Link accepted the money – not quite enough for the house – and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Pleasure doing business with you!”

 

Link caught a couple more horses that day and started asking around at the inn for any deliveries to Hateno. There was a small pile of item orders and letters, which he distributed almost immediately upon his return to the town in question. The fees were fairly minimal - “Call it thirty rupees,” he told each recipient – but even those little bits would eventually add up.

 

Back at his new house, Bolson was happy to hand over the keys.

 

“It’s a bit bare in here. You’d like a nice, soft bed, yes? I could get you one, for a price,” he told Link, giving him an appraising look. “6,100 rupees and I can have one brought in next week.”

 

After a moment’s thought, Link nodded. “Sounds good.”

 

The next thing Link did was to visit the blacksmith and buy himself a miner’s pickaxe; he had heard that gemstones sold for a fair amount of money, which he would need for his new bed.

 

On his return to the inn, Link was offered, and accepted, a mug of some sort of herbal tea by Prima. The innkeeper pottered around the kitchen, prattling about this and that, before eventually saying, “Oh! Has anyone told you about Soul Night?”

 

“No, they haven’t,” Link admitted. “What’s that?”

 

“It’s a local festival to honour the dead. There’s a ceremony in the graveyard before nightfall – the graveyard’s over by the Fort – and then we release small wooden boats with lit candles into the pool by the dye shop after dark. Obviously you can’t do both, seeing as how it’s a three-day trip to the graveyard, so usually, anyone who’s recently lost someone will do the ceremony and spend the night at the bunkhouse on Ovli Plain, and the rest of us release lanterns here in town. Do you know how to carve a boat?” Prima asked him.

“…I don’t think so. Is there anyone who can teach me?”

 

“You could ask Mark, he lives in the house behind the rock with the odd blue flame - he’s a carpenter. Or Fred, up by the tech lab, he might have time.” Prima shrugged. “If not, you could buy one ready-made this year and learn later.”

 

“I’ll think about it. Thanks,” Link told her.

 

Link spent the rest of the early afternoon buying food and supplies from Pruce, the owner of the local grocery, and picking up some of his quicker commissions. He also made hopefully-subtle enquiries regarding parcels or letters headed in the general direction of the Domain that he could deliver along the way. The only message he heard about was one to the owner of the Trilby Inn, but Sayge the dyer had several bolts of cloth bound for Akkala.

 

Remembering what Purah had said about Robbie’s estimated whereabouts, Link made the decision to go see Sayge about that delivery after lunch.

 

Sayge, it turned out, was thrilled to hear about Link’s new business idea and even suggested that Link should go see the local scribe about designing a poster to drum up some interest in this faster courier service.

“You could even send a copy off to Gerudo City, where I hear they have the last working printing press, and have them make copies of a neater version,” he told Link, excited about the idea. “The merchant delivery system is very slow, so I think you could get away with charging about double what they do – which is ten rupees per day. I can think of several people who’d be happy to pay twenty to get their things faster.”

 

“How does the merchant system work?” Link wondered.

 

“It’s like this,” Sayge elaborated, “If you’ve got a note for someone in Greenrest in the west, for instance, it gets handed to the first caravan to leave for the Peaks from here, and then it waits for the next one going westward, usually bound for the desert. At the Outskirt Inn, it waits, again, for someone headed up towards Tabantha – and that can take a while because there’s not as much business that way. It’s three days just to the Peaks, another five to Outskirt, and Greenrest is by the Dalite Forest which is another day from there. That’s a whole week, just in travel time!” he exclaimed.

 

“Thanks for explaining,” Link finally managed to get a word in edgewise, “I’ll look into it.” He did, eventually, go see the scribe.

 

Link spent the next several days in the nearby mines, looking for anything he could sell for a few rupees. This turned out to be mostly amber, but the local deposit was rich enough that he was able to mine a respectable amount and sell it to a Gerudo merchant who was conveniently in town by that stage. The merchant gave his amber a thorough once-over before naming her price. Link countered with a significantly higher one, and finally, after a respectable amount of haggling, they reached an agreement: a total of sixteen-hundred for the sackful.

 

He now had enough for the clothing and equipment he had commissioned but would need a fair amount more for his new bed, so back into the mines he went.

 

Finally, just in time for the bed to be delivered, Link had amassed a small fortune in flint, iron and amber and was able to pay Bolson’s fee with a little to spare. The new bed turned out to be a little wider than usual, stuffed with Cucco feathers and covered in woollen blankets. When he tried it out, it was so soft and comfortable that it was almost like sprawling on a cloud.

 

After a while, Link managed to drag himself out of bed and re-enter the town to go fetch and pay for all the supplies he had ordered.

 

Sophie, it turned out, did excellent work. The new clothes were warm, sturdy and well-stitched and he imagined that, provided no monster claws got too close for comfort, they would serve him well in his travels. Just in case, he bought some patch material from Sophie and a mending kit from Pruce.

 

That evening, as he relaxed in the inn commons, someone called for volunteers to escort a trade caravan to Lurelin in the south for a handsome fee. It was still about a week until Soul Night, after which Link intended to resume his quest, so he offered his help.

 

Three days later, after a relatively uneventful journey past Keya Pond, where the only threat consisted of a handful of weak lizard-like monsters - which one of the merchants referred to as Lizalfos - the caravan arrived in Lurelin, and Link received his payment of 2,700 rupees. He promptly spent most of the money at the local market: shock arrows were expensive, but unusual and hopefully worth it in the long run.

 

Link spent the rest of that evening investigating and solving the nearby shrine puzzle, in which Magnesis turned out to be invaluable. He also found a new Knight’s broadsword – a blade which was significantly better than his worn Traveller’s sword - and the real treasure of the shrine: a large, uncut opal.

 

Instead of spending the night at the local, somewhat overpriced inn, Link opted to warp back to Hateno and his own, luxurious bed.

 

His dreams that night were full of all the wonderful things he could do with his own kitchen, especially the bread oven, and the endless possibilities of food preservation. Somewhere in his subconscious, a plan for counters and storage options started to form.

 

The next morning Link found himself roped into helping bring in the last of the harvest, mostly cabbages of various types, which involved a lot of lifting of heavy crates. After several hours of this, his muscles were aching, but he supposed it would help his stamina in the long run.

 

At the end of the day, Link was only too relieved to avail himself of the bathhouse once again. This time there was no valuable gossip, as there were only a couple of similarly-exhausted patrons in the pool with him.

 

Link awoke, the next morning, to the sounds of clattering and hammering coming from the town itself. When he went to investigate, he discovered that half the town was up on ladders, stringing white, yellow and orange bunting over the road and onto most of the buildings themselves. The other half were carving up pumpkins of varying sizes, ranging from head-sized ones all the way up to the largest Giant’s Pumpkins Link had ever seen. Strangely enough, each and every one of them was leaving the skin intact and only extricating the contents into some large cauldrons.

 

“What’s going on?” he asked the nearest person.

 

“We’re making pumpkin lanterns!” young Teebo, son of Thadd the watchman, exclaimed in excitement. “Mummy’s over there making soup, and Auntie Senna’s making pie!” he added, pointing toward the communal kitchen area.

 

Sensing a new recipe to be had, Link made his way over there and was immediately invited to help with the pie crust, and then the juice. It seemed the menu for Soul Night consisted almost entirely of pumpkin-everything – which made sense, considering the amount of edible pulp in even one of the Giant’s Pumpkins!

 

Three afternoons later, the harvest was done, and Link was invited to attend the harvest feast. The local priest opened the event with a communal prayer to Farore, the ancient goddess of life and the harvest, before taking her seat and passing around a small platter of wafer-thin bread. Once everyone had eaten a piece, the feast itself began.

 

It turned out that, while pumpkins did play a significant role in the celebrations, they were not, in fact, the only food to be had. Every form of food produced in Hateno was served, including roast Cucco. Link wondered just how anyone had managed that, considering the legendary dangers of even accidentally harming one of the bad-tempered birds.

 

The day passed quickly, helped along by songs, games and stories of days gone by and soon it was sunset and time for the lantern boats to be released. Considering his amnesia, Link was unable to set his boat in motion for anyone in particular, so he mainly did it in the name of the unknown dead and his own unrecalled past.

 

The mood that evening was somewhat dampened by the inevitable rising of the blood moon.


End file.
